A Theory Proposed

The bed had never felt so comfortable.  Pillows were perfectly positioned, the blanket just right; a long, long day had come to an end.

“That was a long day,” Xavier said, “but, a very informative day.”

“Informative?” Tala asked as she tapped her cell phone screen a few more times before calling it a day.

“Today I learned why people chew with their mouths closed.” Xavier said.

“Is it for reasons other than being rude?” Tala asked.

“You know, I always that was the reason too.  Maybe to prevent food from just falling out.  I don’t know what I used to believe.  Now, I know the truth though.  Thousands of years ago a family of cave people were sitting around a fire chowing down on mammoth steak.  Parents both exhausted from a day of cave-people-ing or whatever and little Grog in minute 42 of a story about a flying sabertooth tiger who just loves the color green and knocking down trees.  That’s when cave-mom has a brilliant idea, nudges cave-dad with her elbow and gives that ‘follow me on this one’ look.” Xavier explained.

Tala’s cell phone was on the bed side table now.

“Cave-mom says to little Grog that he has to keep his mouth closed or the mammoth steak will attract evil spirits.  Grog listened.  Grog stopped talking.  Cave-mom and Cave-dad had a solid three minutes of relative quiet.  They told the rest of the cave-clan about the new trick and here we are a few thousand years later telling our kids to chew with their mouths closed in hope of getting a few minutes of quiet.” Xavier wrapped up his explanation.

“Do you think Grog continued to listen?” Tala asked.

“Oh goodness no.  Kids have been the same throughout history.  Grog was back to old habits the next night, but it worked once.  When something works once, we know this, we try it again and again and again in hope of repeated results.” Xavier answered.

“And this is why we chew with our mouths closed?”

“Just a minute or two of quiet.”

“That sounds accurate.” Tala said, accepting the theory.

Driving by Cows

Every morning on my way to work I drive by a cow pasture.  Happy little cows fill the lot.  They jump and run and stare at each other with cold, empty eyes and generally seem to be having as good a time a cow in a fenced pasture can have.

Every morning on my way to work I watch these cows for a few seconds and ponder what they will see that day (aside from the cold, empty stare of their neighbor).

One morning this week I saw two cows fight.  They were knocking their heads together and one was trying to jumping to land better hits.  It was awful!  As I drive by I shout “knock it off!”

It was reflex.  I tried to parent cows this week.

Related news; I’m going to deep edit everything written this week for my next book and try to sleep this weekend!

Happy Friday every body!

Quint’s Silent Steps

“My phone is still in there,”  Quint said, horrified.

Gwen stared, mimicking the new father’s face, “You. Did. Not.”

“I can save this.  In and out.” Quint was pretty sure of his ability to remain silent.

Gwen’s confidence in him was low, but that was attributable to lack of sleep and caffeine.  “You move like a ninja or you sleep on the couch. Understood?”

Quint nodded and opened the door.

~~~Literally 13 seconds later~~~

“That thing came out of nowhere!” Quint said, placing an ice pack on his knee.

“It’s the changing table, dear.” Gwen said.

The baby was wide awake.

One, Two, uh, Two and a Quarter…

“You had better have your shoes on by the count of three! Get moving!”

The children paid no attention.

“Fine. Let the counting begin!  One.”

The countdown did not start as expected..  The exasperated father had bribed and begged for assistance, but the kids were busy with completely ignoring him.


One child looked up as if a sudden breeze had tickled his neck and he wanted to ensure it was not a spider crawling on him.  The other continued gnawing on a Hot Wheels car.  Neither moved toward their shoes.

Now the father worried.  He had never made it all the way to three before.  Continue reading

Climbing the Stairway to Nopesvilles

Another birthday approaches and with that comes my annual tradition of self reflection.  It’s a practice that developed long ago and has yet to pay off, but still with the start of another year I like to ponder who I am and what brought me to this time and place.

This year, I’m reflecting on inexplicable neurosis that my children will one day discuss with their own therapists. Continue reading

My Kid is Spooky

Any house with a resident under three years of age is one of loud noises and exhausted adults.  My tale begins no differently from any such home trying to get standard bed time chores accomplished.  Pajamas, diaper changes, brushed teeth; the whole package.  Standard fair that took a turn for the down right terrifying.

I had a long weekend.  Had to go to work on Saturday with images of Office Space in my mind and accompanied my wife for chaperone duties at her school’s prom, then chased kids on Sunday.  No real chance to catch up on sleep, so this evening I was dragging.  The down side of just barely managing to stay up right is that toddlers sense this weakness.  As no coffee in the world could keep me at top speed, the moment the toddler lost his diaper in that brief time between changes, he ran. Continue reading

Gone Awry

“That was a disaster,” Mark stated the obvious.

“I am so sorry,” Marie apologized for the hundredth time.  For the hundredth time, she laughed through it.

The kids were finally settled down and consuming the second attempt at dinner that evening. Promises of a movie night were the only thing that stopped the screaming of just an hour ago.

“I mean seriously, what was the logic there?” Mark asked

“It was kinda funny.” Marie justified. In time Mark would agree, but it had been a long night.

“You waited for the sandwiches to arrive, to be in front of the hungry and tired children, to tell them that Lazy Cat Deli served cat meat only.” Mark reminded her.

“And now we know they very literal children,” Marie said, happy to have made a discovery.

“We also know we can’t go to Lucky Panda for years. I loved Lucky Panda.” Mark could not hide his sadness.
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